Or So I Thought
by Morgana5
Summary: Perhaps you are wondering why in Godric Gryffindor’s name I’m telling you this. After all, you didn’t ask to hear about my make-out sessions with James Potter, resident Quidditch star, arrogant git, and my boyfriend." LJ, please R


Or So I Thought  
  
A/N: yes, shocking I know, but I am back. . . .I seem to do this a lot, don't I? Leaving for a few months and then returning and writing a bunch of stuff then leaving again, I mean. Well, I can give you no promises about how long I will stay but. . . .I'm here for now!  
  
Disclaimer: I disclaim it all.  
  
*~* Lily *~*  
  
James Potter is a good kisser. Not that I have much to compare him to, mind you, but I think the fact that it is eleven at night and I haven't even started my homework because his tongue has been in my mouth for the past hour speaks for itself.  
  
Perhaps you are wondering why in Godric Gryffindor's name I'm telling you this. After all, you didn't ask to hear about my make-out sessions with James Potter, resident Quidditch star, arrogant git, and my boyfriend.  
  
Yes, I did say arrogant git.  
  
I haven't always called him James. In fact, for six years I referred to him as "That Git", "Mr. Full-of-himself", "Pompous Bastard", and, when I was in a good mood, "Potter". I loathed him and the sound of his overconfident voice asking me out.  
  
I still don't know why I said yes. It was the Friday of the first week of school, and I was already swamped with homework. I had just finished a particularly nasty potions lesson in which Professor Canburra, the most hated teacher in the school, informed us that were we to take our Potions N.E.W.T.s at this moment, we would all fail miserably. Bitch. And of course, that bastard Malfoy had eyed me all through class, and when I told him off for it, denied it and called me a mudblood. I proceeded to call him an ass and he told me to watch my language. Imagine that.  
  
Anyhow, I was walking down the hall, cursing at Canburra under my breath, when I heard footsteps behind me. I whirled around to tell whomever it was off for interrupting my near-silent ranting, and found myself face-to-face with That Egotistical Jerk.  
  
"Lily," he said in a voice deeper than his actual one.  
  
"Call me Evans," I said curtly, and turned back around. "I reserve the use of my first name for my friends," I called over my shoulder.  
  
I could feel him grinning and heard his footsteps approaching me again. I quickened my pace, but he caught up with me, grabbing hold of my arm to keep me from hurrying off again. I looked up at him, an expression of extreme annoyance on my face.  
  
"Let go of me Potter. I have things to do."  
  
"Like what?" The Git said in an irritatingly charming manner. Oh damn, I remember thinking. Linking Potter to the word charming in the same sentence is a bad sign. A very bad sign.  
  
"Everything that doesn't involve you," I replied, and wrenched my arm out of his grip.  
  
"Just a minute, Evans, if you please." I sighed loudly and stayed where I was. I watched his hand travel half way to his hair, then drop when he saw me watching. He took a breath, and I do believe he was nervous. All that evaporated, though, when he opened his mouth.  
  
I knew what my answer would be before he even uttered the question: no.  
  
"Will you go out with me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
We were both shocked. My hand flew to my mouth. "Shit!" I cried, not believing I had just said that, and he gave me a wry grin.  
  
"You know, I'd almost rather you said no, if you really don't like me," he told me.  
  
"I'll say it if you'd like. It can be the one thing I do for you as your girlfriend."  
  
"I said 'almost'. I'm not giving up my one and only chance to snog you just to satisfy my ego."  
  
I stared at him uncertainly. Had he just freely admitted that his only reason for wanting me to go out with him was to snog me? As this went through my poor confused mind, he laughed.  
  
"I'm tempted to let you think that all I want is to make out with you just because I love seeing you look confused," he said, and I drew myself up to my full height.  
  
"Fine," I said with as much dignity as I could manage.  
  
"You know, Lily," he said earnestly, and I let the use of my first name slide, "you can change your mind. If it was a mistake, I mean."  
  
I thought about that for a few minutes, which I'm sure were very silent and suspenseful for James. Why had I said it anyway? Because I was in a rash and reckless mood and had had a horrid day and wouldn't mind some good snogging to take my mind off of it? Or because I actually was interested in Potter, somewhere deep down inside? Or was it truly a mistake?  
  
I attributed it to the first idea.  
  
"If it's all right, I'd rather stay with my first decision," I told him, and I swear I have never seen anyone look so happy. He took my bag, linked his arm through mine, and took off down the corridor, pulling me along with him.  
  
What have I gotten myself into? I remember wondering on the way back and all through dinner. But now I'm fine. Because like I said, James Potter is one damn good kisser. 


End file.
